Twilight 25 Summer 2010
by SorceressCirce
Summary: You never can tell where a glimpse at a single picture will take a person's mind. These stories follow my train of thought for the picture prompts provided for round 3 of the Twilight 25. A mixture of one-shots and drabbles, any pairings, including slash.
1. Prompt 20 ExJ Motorcycle Fun

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: 20  
Pen name: SorceressCirce  
Pairing: Edward/Jasper  
Rating: MA

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

_**A/N:**__ This one-shot is most definitely slash, so please don't read it if you don't like that sort of thing. The rest of my Twi25 will be a mix of pairings, including canon ones, so please put this story on alert if you're interested in reading what I do with the photo prompts._

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The curves through the mountains are dangerous, but that's why they're my favorite. The landscape is bleak – dirty and gritty with an overcast sky and so few signs of human habitation that images of _Mad Max_ come to mind.

At least, they do to mine.

The road is in disrepair, but it holds up well enough beneath my tires. I take a turn sharply, the momentum causing the bike to dip suddenly to the right, and I smile when his arms tighten around me. I can't hear a goddamn thing with this helmet on, but I imagine that little gasp he makes when he's on his back beneath me.

We hit a straight section of road, and the bike rights itself, our weight adjusting automatically to the shifts in our center of gravity. His hands move from my waist to splay across my chest as he leans into me. His body is hot and hard and heavy, and I'm beginning to wish I hadn't taken us quite so far away from civilization because I'm going to need to have him again.

Soon.

He relaxes, sitting back just slightly, and my mind refocuses on the road. He drops his hands to my thighs, squeezing once, and then he rubs them lightly. It's a habit of his – the search for texture, for stimulation. I think nothing of it the first time his thumb brushes my crotch. Just an accident – a chance happening that makes me sit up a little straighter.

The second time, I wonder. But he makes no pretense on the third pass, his hand moving boldly up my thigh to cup me. The heel of his palm seeks out the growing erection against my thigh, pressing and rubbing roughly enough to make me bite the inside of my cheek and moan.

Just like I can't hear him, he can't hear me, but the lack of response does nothing to deter him. As I struggle to watch the road, he plays a dangerous game, trying to draw my attention to every little touch of his hands. His left hand roams my body, drifting up and down my thigh, over my chest, squeezing my biceps, kneading my muscles.

I begin to curse the thick jeans and leather jacket I'm wearing that keep me from really feeling him. I know what masterful hands he has, and I am beginning to care less and less that I was the one that wanted to take this lazy afternoon drive.

Before long, he pats my thigh twice. It is a signal we've developed over long months riding together, and I know its meaning intimately.

_Stop._

Usually, he uses it on longer trips when he's hungry or needs to take a piss, but as I look around at the desolate landscape, I have a feeling neither of those is on his mind.

I round the bend, my eyes automatically scanning the roadside to find a good place to pull over. Other than rocky hills and a few twisted trees, the only thing in sight is an abandoned phone booth about a hundred yards away.

It draws closer as I slow the bike. The tires slip onto the shoulder with a jolt, and I can feel him moving behind me even as I put the kickstand down. The bike rises slightly as he climbs off, leaving me feeling weightless somehow even as my face turns to find him.

His helmet is already off, and he's unzipping his jacket. I take a moment to drink him in from the messy auburn hair and crooked smirk to the way his thighs stretch the fabric of his jeans. I pull off my helmet and hang it over the handlebars, standing up though I still straddle the bike.

I raise a questioning eyebrow at him – just to fuck with him – and he mutters, "Like you don't know what I want."

He tosses his jacket onto the seat behind me and says gruffly, "Get your ass over here." I take my time, lowering the zipper of my jacket slowly as if I'm not at all affected by the innuendo of his words and actions. His impatience shows in his voice. "Now, Jasper."

I can't help the half-grin on my face at the longing I can hear beneath the command. I shrug out of my jacket and let it drop onto the seat behind me before swinging my leg over the bike. I can feel the swagger in my walk that matches the confident smirk on my face, both fueled by the hungry way his eyes are watching me.

As soon as I've taken the few steps needed to reach him, his hand dips into the waistband of my jeans and he yanks me toward him. He kisses me hard, a collision of lips and tongues and teeth that gives away just how excited I am by all of this. His boldness spurs me on, making my hands insistent as I work on the buttons of his jeans. It is obvious that he didn't stop me just for a kiss…and it's equally obvious that I will do what he wants – what_ever_ he wants.

He bites my bottom lip hard, nearly drawing blood, and smiles when I moan. I pull the last button free from its enclosure and smile in return, slipping my hand into his jeans. No other fabric is in my way as I wrap my fingers around his cock, already so stiff and ready for me. He's been fantasizing as I drove, evidenced by the slippery pre-cum that coats the back of my hand, and as I push his jeans off his hips with my other hand, I murmur, "Tell me what you were thinking about."

He kisses me again, hard and fast and frantic, while his hands unbuckle my belt and open my own pants. His lips leave me breathless, struggling to keep up with him, and he waits until my jeans are hanging around my knees, my length in his palm before he whispers, "I'd rather show you."

Before I can respond, he drops to his knees, his hands gripping my bare thighs as he licks me slowly from base to tip. He pauses there, teasing the rim of my head with the metal barbell through his tongue, and I inhale sharply as my eyes roll back in my head.

My fingers find his hair while I force my eyes open again. I need to see this – need to see him there in broad daylight on the side of the road, his mouth eager and perfect as he tilts his head, licking and sucking as he places open mouth kisses all along my length. The waist of his jeans is open around his thighs, the fabric bunched under his knees, and I can just see his glistening tip before he looks up at me, his green eyes finding mine as he wraps his lip around my head and takes me deep down his throat.

"Oh fuck," I curse lowly, taking a step back to keep from sinking to the ground.

I feel the vibrations as he hums. They make my knees weak, and I take a shaky breath as he begins sucking me in earnest. His mouth is a hedonistic heaven that leaves me panting and tugging at his hair. I'm pleading with him to stop and begging him to keep going, but he knows me well enough to interpret my rambling whispers.

When I've had all that I can stand, he pulls away. He licks his lips, which are swollen and parted, and I grab his t-shirt near the collar, dragging him up to me. He comes willingly, pressing his body close to mine. I break our heated kiss to yank his shirt over his head. I need to see him…taste his skin.

As soon as the fabric is gone, I dip my head to take his nipple between my lips. His cock fills my hand so perfectly, and I stroke him, needing to let him feel just a little of what he made me feel. His head lolls back as his hands drop to his sides. He slumps, his hips jutting forward, and I duck down to get a taste of him as well.

The liquid at his tip is salty, slightly bitter, and just one taste is enough to make my resolve waver. My head had been filled with visions of bending him over my bike, seeing sweat bead along his spine as he lifted onto his toes, but I have to struggle to hold onto it as I swirl my tongue around his head.

Rocks dig into my knees, but I ignore them as I wrap my arms around his thighs. My hands grasp his ass, my fingers slipping between to tease and torment. He rocks his hips, fucking my mouth, and I lose control as my teeth scrape along his length.

When he tugs at my hair sharply, I worry for a split second that I've hurt him, but his hand is forcing his cock further down my throat, not pushing me away. I feel the muscles in my face contract into what would be a smile even as I swallow around his head.

"Fuck me," his breathless voice grunts.

The words – while not exactly a request – make me pull away. I'm smirking as I stand, even though he looks disappointed.

"So fucking close…" he whispers. His lips are hard against mine again before he breaks our kiss suddenly, panting and working to catch his breath. "Why did you stop?"

"So I can give you what you want." I love the utterly confused expression on his face.

His eyes are palpable on my back as I turn around. The image is spoiled a little by the way my jeans around my knees make my feet shuffle, but it's only a couple of steps to my bike. I open the saddlebags and dig around inside for just a minute before my fingers close around a little paper bag.

"Jazz?" His questioning voice is more sure, the lustful haze leaving it, and that just won't do.

I turn around, sitting on the motorcycle seat as I hold up the bag. "Come here, Edward."

He grins, his eyes flickering from the bag to me, and when he reaches me, he plucks it from my fingers. "What do we have here?"

"Everything we need."

His impish grin matches mine as he leans down to kiss me. He pulls back just far enough to whisper, "You are a wicked man, you know that?"

I nod, returning my lips to his as I kiss him feverishly. I hear the rattle of the sack, and then he curses, breaking our kiss to look down. My lips move to his neck, where I lick and suck, teasing his jaw with my teeth.

He's hard at work, and soon, he's rolling the condom down my length before tearing off the top of the travel packet of lube. He pours it over his fingers and reaches down, stroking me thoroughly. I lean back, spreading my arms to either side as I focus on how he feels. The metal and leather of my bike are hot under my hands, but I don't care. It only serves to emphasize that this is really happening.

There is no question what he means this time when he murmurs, "Fuck me, baby. Now."

"Jesus…"I mumble, breathing shallowly as he backs up to give me room to stand. He wastes no time, moving straight to my bike as he pours the rest of the lube into his hand. I can't help stroking myself as I watch him bend over, putting one hand on the bike as the other slips between his legs. My eyes are drawn to his fingers rubbing his entrance, and the sight of his firm ass so ready for me freezes me in place for a moment.

His hand disappears, and I see the movement of his elbow, the flexing and relaxing of his biceps. As I close the distance between us, my eyes rake his form, appreciating the toned muscles of his back and shoulders, the tattoos, every little imperfection that lets me know that this is _my_ man.

My left hand grasps his hip as my right guides me in. He clenches and then relaxes, and once I'm fully joined with him, my hand rubs slow circles on his lower back, my thumb tracing the edges of the tattoo there. It means more to me than any other decoration on his body, and I love that I can see it when I take him this way.

He gives me no time for musing, rocking his hips back against mine insistently as he murmurs, "Damn it, Jasper…"

From there, I know no more than the movement of our bodies, sweaty and exposed beneath the clearing sky. My breathing stutters, grunts marking the effort of my cock slamming into him again and again. My hands are on both his hips, providing me a firm grip as I make him mine.

I feel him stroking himself, see the evidence in the movement of his arm; the images and memories test my already thin control. I thrust into him harder and harder still, and finally he has to brace himself with both hands on my bike. The lube leaves a wet, iridescent streak on the leather as his hands adjust, the tendons and muscles in his forearms flexing.

He is breathing hard, his ribcage heaving as his head hangs low, and I can hear broken whispers pouring from his lips. I can't discern individual words – it's all a blur of heady stimulation that has my balls tightening and my thighs clenching.

I feel desire and release building in my gut, spreading like fire through my body until it reaches my extremities. My fingertips dig into his hips painfully as my toes curl inside my boots, and with a final thrust, I feel my world explode into countless points of awareness. Flecks of brilliant light and abyssal darkness dance in my eyes, despite the fact that they are open and staring blankly at the smooth skin of Edward's back.

When sensation returns, I feel it all – the brisk breeze cold against my moist skin, the gritty sand it brings, Edward's body squeezing mine nearly to the point of pain as he nears his own release. The return of hearing brings me the hollow sound of wind through the mountains, punctuated by Edward's panting breath and desperate grunts.

Still buried inside him, I bend over his back, brushing his hands away. My wrist knows the rhythm he likes, and he groans when I take over. With my other hand, I reach between his legs, cupping his balls before pulling them gently. His cry of "Oh, god," is muted, half-masked by his plaintive moan.

I feel him grow impossibly harder in my hand, feel the evidence of his impending orgasm in the tightening of his balls, and pull my hand away, cupping it over the head of his cock. With a few final strokes, he comes, sending a thick, pulsing stream into my palm. The movement of my hand slows, but I keep going, stroking him as I kiss his back and shoulders gently.

When I feel him shudder and lower his forehead to his hand, I know he is coming down from his high. I kiss the nape of his neck, nibbling a little too roughly, and he chuckles as I hold the base of the condom and pull out.

I take a few steps to the side, moving awkwardly with my pants around my knees, and pull off the condom, tossing it into the dust. I can't help laughing as I shake my other hand, getting rid of as much of Edward's mess as I can before walking back to him.

He turns around, reaching for my hips as he tilts his head to kiss me. His eyes gleam mischievously when he says, "Damn good thing you were prepared."

"Learned I had to be with you. I figured we'd make it to some bathroom or something, though." I smirk, and he raises one eyebrow before shrugging. The expression on his face is supposed to be innocent, but I know the man too well to fall for that. Holding my messy left hand to the side, I dig into the saddlebags again with the other hand, and he laughs outright when I pull out a travel pack of baby wipes. "Learned that shit from you, too."

I grin, handing the pack to him, and we spend a few minutes cleaning up. Our clothes are back in place, and he's cleaning his hands with a wipe when he finally looks around.

"Jesus, Jazz…think you could've picked a more open place?"

I follow his gaze, snickering when I realize he's right. We stopped in the middle of the straightest section of road we'd seen in miles. Just further up, past the phone booth, there are trees and a few bushes, things that could've provided us some cover. I shrug, pulling him back into my arms, where I murmur against his lips, "Didn't hear any objections from you."

"You never will either." He grins, kissing me lightly as his arms encircle my shoulders.

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_**A/N:**__ So yeah…that's perhaps the smuttiest thing I've ever written, at least in less than 3k words. *blushes and clears throat* Hope you enjoyed it – let me know in a review, please?_


	2. Prompt 24 EJ Fire Escape

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: 24  
Pen name: SorceressCirce  
Pairing: Edward/Jasper  
Rating: MA

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

_**A/N:**__ Another slash one-shot – read on if you like that sort of thing :)_

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The metal clangs and creaks as I climb the fire escape, my gaze shifting between my footing on the rickety stairs and my goal – the light pouring out of the seventh story window left propped open like a neon enter sign. I brush my hair out of my eyes and smile, biting back a moan as I think of what waits for me there.

Or rather, _who_ waits.

I can just picture him lying on his bed, looking for me, but my smile fades, a grimace replacing it as I think of the reason I'm scaling the goddamn building.

_Fucking Rosalie._

Jasper's sister is a controlling bitch. She hates me. She hated me even before I "turned" her baby brother gay, back when I was just a guy who hung out on their sofa and played video games with Jazz and her boyfriend Emmett.

I snort, rolling my eyes.

If that whore only knew the things her sweet, innocent little brother does to me and begs me to do to him, she'd fucking die of shock. Literally.

And maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

We placate her to keep the peace. Jasper's family is important to him and, therefore, important to me. So I show up at the front door and take him out on proper dates where we dress like the gentlemen we aren't. He never stays at my place past midnight – at least when the Bitch is at home – and we occasionally drive out to motherfucking Forks to spend the day with his family. I'm accepted, if begrudgingly, so we've worked out all these rules and details to keep things kosher.

And then I climb the fucking fire escape about four nights a week to do all those other things nineteen-year-old men want to do. We find other times throughout the week, but it's always quick and dirty, and we need the uninterrupted hours to fuck and suck and fall asleep together.

Because despite what Rosalie might think – and what our clandestine behavior might suggest – we are in love.

At first, Jasper occasionally spent the night with me, but then Rosalie caught him coming home before the sun was up and freaked the fuck out. It caused this big family meeting – which I had to attend – where they talked about what was "proper" and how they expected Jasper to behave. It was goddamn bullshit, but I bit my tongue because Jazz wanted me to. I'd thought that maybe Rosalie went along with it for the same reason he did – to keep up appearances – but the more I got to know her, the more I realized…she believes all that shit.

I feel sorry for Emmett. The poor guy is probably still waiting for a blowjob, and they've been together a year longer than we have.

I got my first blowjob from Jazz on our second date.

Granted, we'd been friends since the first day of college, so it wasn't like we'd just met or anything, but it was still pretty fucking unbelievable.

I pause for a few seconds when I hit the fifth floor landing, just to let the anticipation build. Thoughts of Jasper's family keep messing with my head, too, and I want to get over that shit before I climb through his window.

They're close – really close – which is something I just don't understand. My dad left when I was a baby, and my mom raised me the best she could, but we've just never really had that bond, I guess. She's still somewhere in Chicago, and we talk sometimes, but it's just sort of…casual. I accepted my free ride to UW and moved to Seattle without ever looking back.

So, I try to let Jasper have that. I think it must be pretty cool, really, but I hate to see how it upsets him when Rosalie says something bitchy or when he has to ask me to leave when I know he doesn't want to. It sucks. For both of us.

But there's nothing we can do about it right now.

There's a lot I'd like to do about it in the future, but that's for when we're older and ready to settle down…because I honest-to-God have no doubts that it's Jasper I want to be with. He just has to be ready, too.

When I climb up from the sixth story, I can hear music drifting down from his room – The Clash, this time. I smile, and my steps quicken. I poke my head in his window, stealing a few seconds to watch him before letting him know I'm there.

He's stretched out on his bed, propped up on one elbow, and the way the lean muscles in his shoulders bunch up underneath his thin white t-shirt is fucking hot. His shirt has ridden up some, letting me see a little strip of skin above his ratty old jeans that are pulled low on his hips. The top of his boxers is sticking out like always, but before I get any further, he runs his fingers through his hair, and the motion draws my eyes.

"_Should I stay or should I go now? If I go, there will be trouble…and if I stay, it will be double…"_

As the music penetrates my brain, I realize I'm standing on my boyfriend's fire escape with a semi, when I could be inside, pressing him down into that mattress he's lying on and feeling his lips all over my body.

_Fucking moron._

"Hey, baby," I call out softly to let him know I'm there. He glances over his shoulder, and a slow smile spreads on his lips before he tosses his magazine to the floor and stands up.

"Hey, yourself," he answers, crossing the small room as I climb in through the window. He reaches me just as I straighten up, and his hands grip my hips as he pulls me to him roughly. He's always so forceful and insistent, and it turns me on like nothing else. His lips are hungry and hard against mine, but then he pulls away and frowns at me. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

I take a step to the left and shrug out of my jacket as he closes the window against the cool April night. We're always quiet and keep the music going, and I make sure to come over after Rosalie's ridiculous 9:00 bedtime, but it's already after 11:00 now. "Yeah, sorry…I was beginning to think I wasn't ever going to get off. James called in again, and I had to stay a little late to cover his tables until Peter got there." I cut myself off, shaking my head to stop the babble as I pull Jasper back to me and kiss him.

This time, he smiles and gives a little _mmm_ of approval as his hands slip under the edge of my t-shirt. I've already shed the stupid green polo I have to wear when I wait tables, but the thin fabric of my work khakis lets me feel the way he's growing harder against my thigh. His fingers run along my abdomen, tracing lazy patterns as he reaches up to tease my nipple before his hand dips right back down to the button of my pants.

I smile against his lips and begin walking him backwards, heading to the bed he just abandoned as my own fingers make short work of his button fly. He tugs at the bottom of my shirt, and I lift my arms, breaking our kiss long enough for him to yank the fabric over my head. He ducks down, taking my nipple between his lips as he teases it with the tip of his tongue. He has some sort of fascination with my chest, and I do nothing to discourage it.

Our hands are hard at work, and soon, we're down to our boxers, stretched out on Jasper's bed. It's a full size, which takes up most of the damn room, but we bought it together last July after spending all of June fucking sweating to death in his twin. His hips are between my thighs as he rocks against me, our hushed grunts and moans mixing weirdly with the sound of "Tommy Gun" coming from his docked iPod.

We have to be so damn quiet in his apartment that every once in a while, it feels good to go to my place and just fucking scream as we go at it. But we're safer here, or at least Jasper is, because Rosalie never leaves her room after she goes to bed, and we've learned how to be quiet enough to keep from waking her.

_Fucking Rosalie._

The last thing I want to do right now is think of her, so instead I focus on the way Jasper's cock feels as it brushes against mine. He's kissing me and biting my lip and nearly fucking growling, so it's easy enough to forget. I slide my hands into the waistband of his boxers, squeezing and rubbing his ass as he pants into my mouth. I breathe him in greedily, losing myself entirely as we become one.

I need to feel him, skin against skin, so I shove his boxers down. He pulls back to give me room, and we're a tangled mess of long legs as we kick them off, leaving us both nude. When he settles back on me again, I can't help the loud ass groan that escapes me, but he's ready for it, his lips covering mine to mute the sound. He knows how vocal I am, and I know just how much it excites him to hear me. The only thing that ever holds me back is the thought of another one of those fucking family meetings – or, worse, hurting Jasper by upsetting his family.

His stiff shaft feels so good against mine, pre-cum leaking from the tip to drip onto my sensitive head. I can't take it anymore – being so passive – and I grab him by his wrists, flipping him over onto his back. He gives a content sigh, and his fingers tangle in my hair as I kiss my way down his toned abdomen. My tongue dips into his belly button, teasing it, and I smile against his skin when the smell of his body wash hits me hard.

I raise my head. "You just took a shower?" He nods, a smile ghosting across his lips before they form a pout, and he lifts his hips from the mattress, the head of his dick bumping against my chin. I know what he wants, and I give it to him. I lick a long line from the slit at his tip all the way to his balls, teasing and messy as I slide my body down to settle between his spread knees. I pause there, my hands moving to caress his skin while my tongue works its magic on the gathered flesh of his balls. He jerks with a needy hiss, his fingers tightening in my hair, but instead of pulling me away, he pushes me lower.

I lick at his sensitive flesh, my tongue tracing tantalizing patterns so close to where he wants me…where he _needs _me. He's whispering, pleas of "God, yes, Edward" and "Stop teasing me, _please_" drifting down from above, muffled by his thighs against my ears. I nudge his balls with my nose, and he spreads his legs further, letting my tongue dart down to his entrance, where I flick once before I stop, smiling as he squirms.

"Fuck, Edward…just…will you…God, please…"

I fucking love it when he's incoherent like that, and I can't wait to make him even more so. I make myself wait until he grows still, and I can sense his disappointment before I attack, lowering myself to the mattress as I wrap my arms around his thighs, holding him in place. My tongue is teasing and probing, my hand reaching up to stroke his cock as I bury my face in him. I can just hear him panting, and I can feel his thighs quivering as he digs his heels into the mattress, lifting his hips off the bed.

I'm relentless in my attentions until he begins to pump rhythmically, and I know he's getting close. I can hear him then, begging me to stop and to keep going all at once. I know Jasper, though; I know he wants to be buried inside me, and I'm so goddamn hard and aching that I can't wait for that either, so I back off, kissing my way up his thigh.

I can't just leave him like that – he needs to calm down some – so I take his cock deep in my mouth, making my movements slow and soothing. He twitches, his breathing erratic, but gradually, he stills, and his hands in my hair are gentle as he massages my scalp. He tugs lightly, pulling me upward, and I let him go reluctantly.

He kisses me fully, his tongue and lips saying everything he needs to say, letting me feel how much he loves and wants me. He rolls me onto my back and then turns away, reaching into his nightstand for a condom and bottle of lube.

I reach down, stroking him gently until he settles back beside me, leaving the items on the sheets. He moves to kneel between my legs, taking me deeply without any sort of warning. He's swallowing and teasing, his teeth scraping me lightly as he picks up the lube. He pours a little into his hand, and then his slick fingers are rubbing my entrance. I spread my knees for him, letting him press a finger into me. A second joins the first, and then a third, and his other hand is wrapped around my base, squeezing and stroking as he sucks me.

My head presses back into his pillow, my back arching with the sheer pleasure he's bringing me. Before long, it's my voice that's begging, whispering for him to please take me. His tongue traces the line between my balls, letting the chill air in the room breeze across my wet cock. I shiver, both from the cold and in anticipation, and I feel his smile before he blows gently, heightening the sensation.

"Fuck, Jasper…please, baby…" My words are a breathless whisper, but he listens. He spreads out on top of me, letting me feel his weight as we kiss heatedly.

At long last, he moves to my side, and I know that our teasing is through. For tonight, anyway. Our hands work together to roll the condom down his length, and I pour the lube into my hand, stroking him a few times before he moves to his knees again. He braces himself above me, his hands to either side of my shoulders as he kisses me chastely. He's watching me when he whispers, "God, I love you, Edward…"

And then he shifts, one hand moving between us to help guide him in. He stretches me even as I whisper my love in return, and he feels so goddamn good that I wonder again why the hell we ever leave his bed.

My arms wrap around him, one of my hands grasping his shoulder while the other kneads his ass, and I shift my hips, lifting my legs back so that I am spread wide for him. He grunts, pushing all the way in; he leans down and bites my shoulder with a passionate groan. My head turns automatically, my lips seeking his so that our kisses can help keep us as quiet as possible.

His hips rock against mine, and despite our need for silence, I hear the whimpering and panting that accompanies his thrusts, adding an altogether different beat to the music of The Smiths coming from the iPod. My own cries are desperate and breathy, filled with pleading and longing.

My cock is trapped between us, providing just enough friction to drive me mad, but it isn't until Jasper reaches down and takes me in hand that I inhale sharply and begin to meet him thrust-for-thrust. He drives into me hard – again and again and again – as he strokes me faster. I feel the vibrations in my toes, a thrumming that spreads up my calves before traveling through my thighs. My body is taut, right on the edge of something fucking mind-blowing, and then Jasper's thumb brushes over my head as he whispers, "Cum for me, Edward," and I do.

My world shatters into tiny points of light, dots blooming behind my eyelids as my jaw clenches and I grunt so loudly, it's nearly a growl. My cum sprays all over my chest, and Jasper lets go of me, both his hands moving right beside my hips to give him more leverage as he just pounds into me. He's so hard and hitting so deep that it makes my thighs quiver, but he thrusts only a few more times, and then he grows still, a quiet, "Fuck," on his lips before his hips are rocking again, more slowly now as he comes down from his high.

All is quiet in the apartment except for the sound of Morrissey's plaintive voice singing, _"Please, please, please, let me get what I want this time…"_

Jasper leans down, kissing me tenderly, and then I feel empty as he pulls out, sitting back on his heels to take off the condom. It's moments like this that I feel…whole. As ridiculous as it sounds, Jasper makes me want to be a better man, and it's when he's looking at me like _that_ that I think I just might be.

He cleans us both up, and I feel myself starting to drift off to sleep while he's still settling into bed beside me. I'm lying flat on my back when the light clicks off, bringing blessed relief to my tired eyes. His weight is comfortable and perfect against my side as he rests his head on my shoulder, his hand rubbing my chest gently. I hum in approval and shift, burying my face in his hair to kiss his head.

"Hey, Ed?" he whispers.

"Mmm…" I answer, waiting to hear him say he loves me. Just the thought puts a smile on my face.

"You awake?"

_That's weird._

It begins to filter through my post-coital fog that Jasper seems strangely alert. His body is a little tense at my side, and I tighten my arm around his waist, shifting so that I can just see his face in the dim light through the blinds.

"Can I ask you something?"

"'Course, Jazz…" My voice is still a little mumbling, but I'm focused on him, curious about what he has to say.

He takes a breath, and his fingers tap against my ribs, making him seem nervous for some reason. "You know my birthday's coming up, right?"

I frown slightly. "You hinting at a present already, baby?" I smile wryly, wondering where the hell he's going with this. His birthday isn't for another couple of months, but I have some plans in the works – specifically, I've already booked the hotel room, and I'm taking him on a trip to the beach, no matter what story we have to concoct for his family.

"No." I see the flash of white teeth as he smiles. "Actually, I…there's something I need to ask you." He breaks off, muttering under his breath. This isn't like Jasper. He's never flustered, never unsure, and my mind is suddenly more focused. "I'm going to be twenty, right?"

I nod, reaching over to cup his cheek as I wait for him to make some goddamn sense. He sits up partially, propping himself on one elbow as he looks down at me earnestly. The light pollution from the street is just bright enough to let me see the blue of his eyes, and I can't help but smile. He's just so fucking beautiful.

"Can I move in with you?"

The words are a shock to my system, and I sit up, mirroring his position. Our faces are only inches apart as I blink at him. I don't know what I expected, but it sure as hell wasn't that. "Why?" is the first thing I blurt out.

He frowns at me, glancing away, and I curse myself for the idiot I am. I lean over to kiss him with a smile on my face. I keep my lips against his as I murmur, "Of course you can…god, I'll fucking help you move tomorrow…" His lips curve into a smile, and we kiss for a long time before we part at last. "I just wondered what brought it on…why now?"

I've asked him to move in with me more times than I can even really remember, but there was always a strong argument for why it wasn't a good idea – his family. Jasper runs his fingers through his hair. "It's going to sound fucking stupid," he warns.

I roll my eyes. "I doubt that."

He licks his lips, making me want to start the kissing and rubbing and fucking all over again, but I control myself, moving my gaze to his eyes instead. His breathing is shallow when he speaks, and I put my hand on his hip, my thumb rubbing soothingly along his hipbone. "It's a new decade for me, you know? And I…I want to start it as _me_. I'm tired of this shit." He motions toward the room with his hand, shaking his head before his eyes come back to mine. "I'm tired of hiding us. I want you. I want to be able to go to bed with you at night and wake up with you in the morning, and fuck anyone who doesn't understand."

For a minute, I wonder if maybe I really _did_ fall asleep and this is all some cruel dream, but I'm pretty sure that my dream-self would say something better than, "Hell, no. You're only fucking me."

Jasper laughs quietly, shaking his head at me. "You're fucking adorable when you're tired." He leans over, tilting his head to kiss me, and it's when our lips part and I feel his tongue brushing against mine that the truth of his words sinks in.

I pull back and look at him seriously. "You mean it? You want to live with me?"

He shifts, moving closer to me so that our hips are pressed together, our legs twisting with the sheets. His hand is hot on my lower back when he nods. "Please," he says simply.

I can't answer, not in words. I nod, my lips hungry and insistent against his as I press him back onto the bed. I move to straddle his hips, and his hands are roaming my back, moving over my ass to my thighs when I finally find words again. "Rosalie's going to flip her shit."

He laughs, biting my jaw before he nods. "It's worth it," he whispers back. "I might never let you wear clothes again, though."

My heart feels light, and I laugh with him. "Definitely worth it," I murmur, and he bucks his hips against mine, making me forget everything else for a while.

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_**A/N:**__ So yeah… more E/J smut. I don't know what's happened to me. ;) Hope you enjoyed it, though._

_I'm very proud to have taken part in the __**Fandom Gives Back**__ auction, which has – so far – raised over $105,000! Thank you so much to everyone who participated._

_For those of you who are interested, __**Just One of the Guys**__ is still on the way, I promise. Complications from surgery…well, complicated things. I'm working on the chapter, and it will be up just as soon as I can get it there. Thank you for your patience and understanding._

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	3. Professor Cullen the Bibliophile ExJ

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: 6  
Pen name: SorceressCirce  
Pairing: Edward/Jasper  
Rating: MA

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

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"Here you go, Professor Cullen."

I take my cup of coffee with a nod and a smile. "Thank you, Jessica."

"You're welcome, sir." I ignore the hopeful smile and head for the door, bypassing the condiments station. Jessica's unrequited crush on me lends itself to borderline stalker tendencies, and she's known how I take my coffee since before I ordered from her the first time.

As I walk out the door of the campus coffee shop, a brisk wind blows, sending desiccated leaves skittering across the sidewalk. I pause for a moment, setting my paper cup on the window ledge so I can pull my scarf from the pocket of my corduroy blazer. I automatically clean the lenses of my glasses and then settle the tortoise-shell frames back in place before winding the scarf around my neck.

Coffee in hand once again, I set off at a leisurely pace toward the house I just bought with my partner, Jasper. The thought puts a smile on my face and straightens my shoulders – until I remember the way it looked when I left this morning.

We just moved in over the weekend with plenty of help from our friends, but once the final trucks were unloaded, it was just us…and countless boxes. We were too exhausted last night to do much more than set up the bed, take a shower, order a pizza, and pass out once we were stuffed.

This morning, I had to wind my way through a maze of boxes and search for things like my toothpaste just to get to work. I'd known it was a bad idea to move in the middle of the semester, but there hadn't been a lot of choice when the house we wanted came on the market.

It was perfect for both of us – close enough that I could walk to campus with a huge finished attic where Jasper could set up his studio. After years of struggling, we were finally in a place where he could quit his job at the bookstore and just paint.

We are in our own personal heaven on Earth…or, rather, we would be if we weren't surrounded by all those damn boxes. If we have one weakness, it's that we're both bibliophiles. We'd bonded over books the first time we met, when he'd sat down uninvited at my table at the bookstore to ask me about the novel I was reading. Once I'd gotten over the initial shock – and he'd gotten off work – we'd spent hours sitting right there talking books and drinking coffee.

I smile, taking a sip of my coffee that doesn't warm me nearly as well as my memories. Jasper is exactly the man I'd spent my whole life looking for, and we've been inseparable since that first day. He's a pain in the ass sometimes, especially since he's not nearly as neat as I am – I think he could honestly live in that cave of dusty boxes indefinitely. I know I irritate him with my constant need to clean, which is part of the reason I'm taking my time walking home.

The last thing I want to do is ruin our first full day in our new house by insisting that the entire place be put together _now_, so I'm trying to get my head in the right place.

_Maybe we can go out to dinner…_

There's an Italian place he loves, and we haven't been in a while. A movie afterward would be perfect, too. I nod absently to myself, feeling a bit better now that my mind is made up and I know I won't have to sit inactive in the middle of that mess all night.

I let my gaze wander as I walk home, taking in our neighborhood with fresh eyes. I've been teaching here as a full professor for five years now, but it's different living here. I feel a sense of ownership…pride, perhaps…and every familiar sight is new somehow.

Still, dust and precariously stacked boxes worm their way back into my thoughts from time to time, making me sigh as my steps slow. I try to find happier thoughts, and my fingers twitch against the paper sleeve around my cup as I think of another major draw of the house – one of the walls in the living room is covered entirely with built-in floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves that would house most of our collection.

My jaw had literally dropped the first time I saw it, and Jasper had laughed. He'd teased me, saying that I just wanted to pretend I was a real professor.

_He chuckled, nibbling at my ear as he slipped behind me. His arms encircled my waist, and he rested his chin on my shoulder as I stood staring at the wooden ladder that matched the shelves. "So am I going to come home to find you in a drinking jacket with Scotch in one hand and a stogie in the other?" _

_I swatted at his hands, leaning back against him. "You're telling me you don't love that?"_

"_Of course I do…" he whispered. He let me go and slipped his finger into my belt loop, tugging so I would turn around and face him. "It's one of the main reasons I wanted you to see this place." I could hear the earnest tone in his voice, see it in his eyes, and a smile spread on my lips._

"_Thank you," I answered simply. "The attic is fantastic, too. What do you think?"_

"_I think we should put in an offer, sweetheart. I know the timing sucks, but do you really think we're going to find something we like more?"_

_My smile was slow and mischievous. "I think I need to figure out where the hell you buy drinking jackets."_

I chuckle, unable to stop my smile as I turn the corner onto our street. My books are my pride and joy, but for all of my adult life, they've spent most of their time in boxes. I can't wait to get them all out on display, so I can see and appreciate them.

_I wonder if…_

I stop myself at once, shaking my head to clear it of the "innocent" suggestion that maybe we could unpack just a few boxes. It's not worth it. I want to spend a happy night with Jasper, celebrating our new home.

My feet are light as I head up the stone walkway to our front door with a jaunty step. I grin at the thought, wondering what Jasper would make of me using a word like "jaunty" to describe myself.

The front door is all glass and wood painted a curious light turquoise shade that I've grown to love. When I first saw it, I thought it needed to be painted, but it fits in with the overall quirky charm of the whole place that – to be honest – describes Jasper perfectly.

My smile fades as soon as I step inside. I stub my toe on the stack of boxes just inside the entryway and muffle my curse. I flip the light switch, only to have nothing happen, and it is then that I remember that we still haven't even installed light bulbs through most of the house.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and humming tunelessly to myself before I unwind my scarf and slip it back into my pocket. I hang my coat on the coat rack and run my fingers through my hair as I steel myself for what I might find when I leave the entryway.

Jasper could be upstairs painting if the mood struck.

He could be napping, especially if he stayed up after I left. He is by nature a creature of the night.

He could very well have set up the TV and be sitting on the couch in the middle of the disaster area, eating Cocoa Puffs and watching Judge Judy.

Once I feel like I'm prepared for any of these things, I call out, "Babe? I'm home."

No answer.

I take a step toward the hallway. "Jasper?"

Still nothing.

_Maybe he's upstairs…_

I head that way, but I've gone only a few steps when I glance into the living room and stop in my tracks. "Holy shit," I breathe.

I am frozen, staring dumbly at the soft light pouring from the antique lamps Jasper's mother gave us last Christmas. We hadn't had room for them in our old apartment, but now they are spread around the room, perched on top of the end tables we just bought. The furniture has been arranged so that the couch faces the TV, but the loveseat is turned toward the fireplace.

But something is missing.

As the absence of boxes filters through my awareness, I take a tentative step toward the room. And then another. Hope and disbelief war in my chest until I walk through the doorway, my head turning automatically toward the bookshelves.

They are gleaming, the wood polished to a high shine that glows warmly in the low light, but even better than that, they are filled – rows upon rows of first editions and rare copies, hard covers and cheap paperbacks. I stand in awe, allowing the beauty of the overall scene to settle into my mind, and then I'm in motion again, stopping only when I stand right in front of the shelves.

I run my fingers along tattered, carefully repaired spines, realizing as I go that Jasper has the books meticulously arranged. They are separated by genre and author, a recognizable order amid the chaos of volumes. I smile as I spot old friends I haven't seen in years – the storybooks my mother read to me as a child before she passed away, the weathered copy of _The Hobbit_ that began my love of Tolkien and fantasy. So many books I'd forgotten, but one glimpse of a particular crease along the title, and memories rush back.

There are many I do not recognize, and I know they must be part of Jasper's collection. A few titles I don't recall having ever heard of before, and I embrace this mystery – this chance to know him better, even after all these years together.

It is fitting, somehow, seeing his books mixed with mine. A warmth seeps through my skin as I pore over the books on the shelves, competing with the growing desire I have to find him and thank him for this – the best surprise he could have given me.

I don't want to shortchange his gift, though, so I spend a few more minutes appreciating his handiwork. He has arranged our two armchairs around a small area rug, creating a little reading nook with a floor lamp in between. I marvel at how…_perfect_ it all is. I'd imagined so many things when I'd first seen this room, but somehow this is all the more special because I know he did it for me.

Finally, I can't take it any longer. I cast one more glance around the room, smiling broadly as I see the paintings he's already hung, the framed pictures of us scattered here and there. My heart is in my throat when I finally leave.

The rest of this house is still a train wreck, so I navigate my way down the hall as best I can, heading for the attic stairs. Before I've gone more than a few steps, though, I hear the muffled sound of water running.

I follow it to our bedroom door, which is standing open. Jasper has made a little progress in our room, but I pay no attention to it as I walk toward the bathroom door. It is closed because Jasper loves scalding hot showers and hates to feel cold when he shuts the water off.

I open the door, closing it quickly behind me as I step into a bank of steam. My glasses fog immediately, so I take them off, putting them on the counter. I can hear Jasper singing softly to himself, see his blurry, moving outline through the shower doors – he hasn't heard me yet.

Without even thinking about it, I strip as silently as possible out of my clothes, for once leaving them in a pile on the floor. I pad to the shower door and open it slowly, trying not to let a draft give me away.

I can't help but stare.

Through the haze, I can see water cascading over his back, running in sudsy rivulets down his spine. My eyes linger on his firm ass before movement draws them back to his shoulder blades. His biceps flex as he reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, sending a fresh deluge over his skin.

_Gorgeous._

"You just gonna stand there looking all day?"

I grin ruefully and step into the shower at last, slipping my arms around his waist to pull him back against me. "You knew I was there?"

"Heard you when you got home," he answers with a mischievous grin, turning to give me a light kiss. I deepen it, parting his lips so our tongues meet. He gives in willingly, humming contently as he laces his fingers through mine.

When our kiss ends, I murmur, "I can't believe the living room…"

His grin brightens. "All for you, baby…you like it?"

"It's amazing," I answer honestly. "How did you do all of that, though?"

He steps away, rinsing beneath the showerhead before pressing his body against mine again. "Started right after you left this morning. I just…" He pauses, shrugging as his hands drift down to cup my ass. His voice is husky and low, harder to hear over the rush of the water when he speaks again. "I love you, Edward. All of this just makes it feel more…permanent, you know?" I smile, unable to resist kissing him hard as he speaks my own thoughts and feelings back to me. He pulls away at last, trailing kisses along my jaw to my ear, where he murmurs, "I just wanted to do something nice for you to show you how happy you make me."

I reach up, taking his face between my hands as I look into his eyes. His lashes are darker than usual, clumped from the water dripping from his nose and chin. His eyes are the brightest I've ever seen them, though – grayish blue shot through like banded agate with darker veins of navy and lightest aquamarine. Standing there looking at him, I can feel the subtle difference between us, the settled, confident feeling that pervades the atmosphere.

"I love you, Jasper," I say simply.

He smiles and kisses me again. This time, it is his lips that are insistent, his tongue brushing against mine as his hands move to grip my hips. I give myself to this moment, to feeling his body pressed against mine, slick and warm from the water rushing over our skin.

His head tilts, his fingers tangling in my dripping hair as our hips align. I feel the way his body is stirring, reacting to mine, and it excites me as always.

Though it is a small gift, not nearly as meaningful as the one he has given me, I kiss my way down his body, lingering on his angular collarbone, tracing the faded scar along his ribs, nibbling at the taut flesh of his abdomen. He sighs softly and shifts, leaning against the shower wall. His fingers in my hair encourage me, and when I glance up, I find his lips parted.

I chuckle at the excitement in his eyes, letting me know just how badly he wants this. The cast iron tub is slick under my knees, the glaze different from the slightly rough acrylic in our old place. I smile, relishing all the subtle changes, thoroughly enjoying exploring my partner's body in our new surroundings.

I duck my head, warm water spraying my face as I tilt it up to lavish attention on Jasper's balls. He spreads his legs wider, letting me take one into my mouth, tracing thick veins with the tip of my tongue before drifting backward, teasing and sucking. When I pull away, he pouts at me, but I just grin.

I reach up, gripping his hips as I take his hardening cock deeply, earning a quiet, "Jesus… fuck, Edward," from above.

His hands cover my ears, and I can feel the way his body curves. I know he is watching me, his head tilting and shifting for the best angle. He loves playing with perspective, loves seeing things in a new way, and the sight of his cock disappearing into my welcoming mouth is one of his favorites.

Between his hands and the rush of water from the shower, I can't hear him, but he makes his pleasure known in the way his hips thrust and his fingers clench. I move, spreading my knees as I settle in, determined to make him lose control.

I lick and suck, massaging his cock with my tongue as I let my teeth scrape lightly along his length. One of his hands falls away, and I open my eyes to find it clenching into a fist at his side. His other hand moves to the back of my head, its weight heavy and aimless as his fingertips dig into my scalp.

I _love_ this – knowing I can do this to him – and my cheeks lift into an unfinished smile as I hum. His hips buck, his voice clear now when he says, "Oh, fuck me…do that again, baby."

He is breathless, panting, and I have to honor his request. I hum once more, flicking the tip of my tongue against his cock. I reach up with my left hand, cupping his balls and pressing between his legs. As my fingers drift backward, he murmurs, "God, you know just what I like…please, Edward…"

At the sound of his husky voice pleading, I am suddenly aware of my own aching cock brushing against my skin as I move. I rub my middle finger back and forth across his entrance, moaning when he shifts down a bit to open himself to me. As I press the tip of my finger into him, I wrap my hand around my cock, squeezing nearly to the point of pain.

I fantasize about being inside him, feeling his ass tighten around me, and my cock twitches, longing to take the place of my finger inside of Jasper. But I don't act on it. I want to be exactly where I am right now.

My lips glide smoothly along his skin as my finger meets resistance. I am slow, gentle, but before long, he is begging for more. I slip another finger inside him, stroking my cock in earnest as my head bobs to the rhythm my hands have set. I rub against that special place that will buckle his knees, and sure enough, his hands fly to the sides, struggling to hold onto the shower wall.

I double my efforts, overcome with the flood of sensations as I drive us both toward bliss. My hand comes up and over the head of my cock, spreading pre-cum and teasing the sensitive flesh as I swallow around Jasper. I feel his spasm, letting me know he's close, and I slow my pace for a moment, wanting to prolong this.

He won't be deterred, though, his hips taking over where I left off. I chuckle as best I can and relax my throat, letting him fuck my mouth. His words have dissolved into grunts and moans and hisses, animalistic noises that make my hand speed along my cock.

I shudder as his knees hit my chest, his thighs tight with exertion. As I taste his salty, bitter stream on the back of my tongue; a twist of my wrist sends me spiraling with him. He grows impossibly thicker in my mouth as his hands fist my hair, holding me so close it's hard to breathe.

I welcome the incoherency, the feeling of nothingness as I float on bliss from the pleasure I just experienced spiced with the want of air. We hang in stasis for a protracted moment, the only movement that of the cooling water cascading over our bodies.

Jasper is the first to move. I hear a grunt and then, "Holy fuck, Edward…" Fingers run tenderly through my hair before moving to my biceps, urging me to stand.

I try to comply, but my knees are aching from being on the hard surface for so long. He chuckles as he helps me move awkwardly to my feet, and the first thing I see when I stand is his beaming smile.

"God…you're amazing," he murmurs. "Come here."

I step toward him, my arms wrapping around his shoulders as his slip around my waist, his hands dipping down to caress the swell of my ass. Our heads tilt as we kiss, languid brushes of lips and tongues as Jasper tastes himself. His body is pressed fully against mine, and I nibble his bottom lip as my fingers slide into his hair.

When we part at last, our lips still touching lightly, I whisper, "So are you. Thank you."

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Anything for you."

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_**A/N:**__ Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review my work – I can't tell you how much I appreciate hearing your thoughts! I swear, some of these will be things other than E/J, but so far, they are the ones babbling._

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